Your Yesterdays Ain't Nothin'
by Chasing Liquor
Summary: “There is a saying amongst my people, that the soul is as frail as the moment it inhabits.” Rodney/Team friendship.


**Disclaimer**: MGM is swimming in a pool of gold coins, and I'm... not.

**Spoilers:** Nothing much, except that it's set in early Season 5 (no particular spoilers for S5 either, though).

**Description:** This is a dark team fic, which explores the wonderful and cold realities of friendship and loss from a Rodney-centric perspective.

**Warnings:** A couple mild vulgarities, potentially graphic imagery

**A/N**: Thanks for reading this. I hope you enjoy it, and I'd appreciate it if you'd leave me a review and let me know what you think.

* * *

**Your Yesterdays Ain't Nothin'**

* * *

_If you give a man the choice, he'll hang himself and not his brother. Not because he wants it that way or because he's showing off for God. It's just one of those things that _is_._

_And what most people can't understand is that it doesn't matter where you've been, whether you've been pillaging or giving or neither. When that lonesome moment calls your number, you haven't got but what's right in front of you._

OooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

"Rodney, _everyone_ has to do it. You think I woke up this morning and thought, 'It's been a while since McKay whined about something. Let's take him to the shooting range'?"

McKay raised his chin defensively as they walked.

"It wouldn't be out of character."

"You know, I was planning on complimenting you, but if you're going to be like this…"

McKay perked up.

"Complimenting?"

Sheppard rolled his eyes, but smiled generously as they rounded the next corridor.

"You have a long ways to go, of course. And granted, it's a little surreal seeing you hold a shotgun…"

"_This_ is your compliment?"

"If you'd let me finish, I was about to say that you're not as wildly inaccurate as you used to be."

"Oh, thanks for that," McKay groused. "Can you write that one down? It'll be perfect for my headstone."

Sheppard grinned as they walked into the commissary.

"Why do you care? And anyway, if you went around sniping Wraith and cutting throats, I wouldn't have anything to do. They'd send you through the gate alone."

McKay didn't respond as they grabbed their trays. The soldier frowned.

"See, that's the part where you say, 'You're right, John. How terrible that would be.'"

"Well… I've never been much good at lying."

Sheppard recoiled in mock-hurt.

"Ouch," he muttered theatrically. "No, that's cool. That's fine. I see how it is. But, you know, next time you take an arrow in the ass, maybe I'll just let you handle things, since you're the one-man gang now…"

McKay grabbed a dinner roll off of the metal serving tray, then glanced over his shoulder when he heard someone call his name from across the noisy room. It was Keller, seated alone amidst the sea of crowded tables, gesturing for him to join her. He smiled back, but frowned when he turned to find Sheppard smugly smirking.

"What?"

"Hurry up, Romeo. There's people behind us."

McKay ducked his head in embarrassment, sliding his tray down to the next partition.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

She leaned back against wall, stretching her legs out in front of her. He couldn't help but run his eyes over them discreetly. It had never struck him the way it should have how beautiful she was.

"You are greatly improved since our last session."

McKay let out a sarcastic breath, wincing as he rolled his bruised shoulders.

"Yeah, clearly."

"I am being sincere," Teyla replied with affection, a modest smile on her lips. "It took me more than twenty seconds to subdue you this time."

He felt a sudden burst of confidence.

"I thought it was closer to thirty."

"Then my count was likely mistaken," she placated. "Whatever the number, I am proud of the strides you have made. It will no doubt serve you well when we face our next… predicament."

McKay smiled gently, nodding. They were content sit in silence for a little while after that, sipping from their respective bottles of water.

It reminded him of when he was a kid and he and Jeannie would come home from making trouble in the neighborhood. They'd sit outside 'neath the hot sun, backs pressed against the garage door, and drink water or lemonade or whatever was in the garage. Usually they wouldn't talk. The two of them had never had much to talk _about_. It was nice, though. And so was this.

"Rodney."

He glanced over at her, surprised at the note of trepidation in her voice.

"May I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Do you believe I have been of equal value to the team since my return to duty?"

McKay blinked in surprise, frozen for a moment. He wasn't sure what to say, but he could tell by the uncertainty in her eyes that whatever he did utter would bear some consequence.

"What? You – yeah. Why… what makes you ask that?"

She looked away, letting out a fragile sigh he wasn't sure he'd heard before. Her lashes hung down over her eyes, hiding them from him.

"I worry at times that I will not possess the courage my position requires of me."

McKay frowned deeply.

"What are you talking about? I'm the coward, not you, remember?"

She couldn't help a small smile at that.

"My circumstances have changed, Rodney. I can no longer afford to give your life, or John's or Ronon's, equal weight to my own. My child requires a mother."

McKay looked down, and she knew he understood. He played with the hem of his t-shirt, thinking. She thought he might have looked a little hurt, despite his unspoken acceptance.

"Rodney, it is not that – "

"I know," he said softly. "And it's… it's okay. It's – um, fine. Really, it is. I've never sired an offspring, but I can imagine my life looks a lot less important when you have."

She looked away guiltily, and he wanted to kill himself for saying that.

"No, no, no. I… that sounded… really…" He sighed in frustration. "I understand, okay? I promise I do, and it's really all right. You've put yourself on the line for me more times than I can count. You've done your part. There's no reason you should throw your life away for me now."

Teyla smoothed out the wrinkles in her skirt, but not the ones on her forehead. The room suddenly felt small for both of them.

"There is a saying amongst my people, that the soul is as frail as the moment it inhabits."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that we are not to be judged by what we have done in the past, but always by our actions in the physical present."

McKay shook his head.

"That doesn't sound very fair."

"Perhaps not," she said, closing her eyes. "But I fear that it may be true regardless."

He felt his heart sink as he watched her face. He tried to think of something to say. There was nothing, though. So he reached over awkwardly and patted her hand.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

This was a lot more stuff than he probably needed for a three-day trip, but he wasn't sure what he was going to do when he was done packing, so he just kept thinking of new things to bring. An extra razor, two different jackets, three collared shirts, seven pairs of socks.

He went on like that for a while, looking a bit manic, before at last he glanced up and found Ronon standing in his doorway. It was an agonizingly familiar moment.

The Satedan looked on him with mournful eyes, but McKay found he couldn't take it, and so returned to his unnecessary packing.

"Hey."

McKay turned toward the closet so that his back was to him, pretending to look for something.

"Hi," he said. "I'm just… getting a few things together."

Ronon nodded, entirely aware that he was just shuffling hangers back and forth on the rack. There was something so pathetic about the scrape scrape scrape of wire on metal.

"Anything I can do to help?"

"No," the scientist said, maybe a little too quickly. "No, I'm just going to… finish up here and… then I'm going to head back to Earth in about an hour when Sam reports to the SGC."

"If you need someone to come with you…"

McKay finally gave up his charade in the closet, turning back to face the man, fidgeting with his hands.

"No. No. Sheppard and Jen are coming. Three ought to cover it. I'm good. It's good."

Ronon nodded again, but gave him a scrutinizing once-over that seemed to unsettle him. The scientist walked back over to the bed, zipping up his suitcase. He tried to think of what to do after that, but drew a blank. So he sat down, his shoulders sagging as if 'neath a literal weight.

"The last time I saw her, we argued about a theory of hers," McKay blurted out quietly. "I told her she had no idea what she was talking about because I was smarter than her."

He looked at the Satedan again, and cast now in the lamplight from above the bed, Ronon could see the lines of pain and sorrow and regret, the dark red bloodying the blue of McKay's eyes.

"I said I was smarter. And then she died."

Ronon shook his head gently.

"She knew you didn't mean it. We _all_ know you never mean it."

McKay swallowed painfully.

"If I didn't mean it, I shouldn't have said it. But I did say it," he ground out like gravel. "I said it..."

His voice caught, his entire being possessed by some pitiful specter.

"And the thing is… I meant it too."

"Is that really what you want to live with?" Ronon asked. "Not everything from before that?"

McKay looked away, bracing his elbows on his legs and putting his head in his hands. He combed his fingers through his hair, then scrubbed his face, and then just buried it in his palms.

He was so tired. Just so beaten and sad and tired.

He sat as still as he could, not saying anything until Ronon finally left.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

It wasn't dark yet, but it was getting there. He was kind of happy about that. Contrary to Sheppard's assertion, he _could_ tell the difference between the sun setting now and the one which shone above Atlantis. He didn't much care for this one. It gave light to the most terrible things.

He couldn't help thinking what a strange ritual it was, returning someone to the ground. They'd surrounded her, the chosen few who professed best to know her, and then each had proceeded to pronounce their judgment. No one said a cross word. It was like they were canonizing her.

A rustling below the deck took him out of his thoughts.

He leaned over the railing to get a look, figuring it was an animal or some such, but he couldn't see anything, so he made his way down the stairs until he reached the cement stone at the bottom.

It didn't take him long to find the source of the noise.

He approached her quietly, not sure what he was he was going to do, but knowing that the situation required something of him. She looked up at him tentatively, then turned her eyes down, her lips setting into a pout.

"Um… hi," he managed softly, gingerly setting himself down beside her, careful to make sure they weren't touching.

Madison tensed, but didn't move.

"Hi, Uncle Mer."

Her dress was filthy from where she'd wiped her hands on it. It was so much the same as the way Jeannie used to look on Sunday afternoons when they'd go and play with the neighborhood kids. Mom would get so angry when she messed up her Church attire. He always told her they were just clothes.

"How, um… how…" He had to stop a moment to find his voice. "Are you doing okay?"

Madison slowly shook her head, her eyes swollen and red and so full of something he couldn't take away. He just nodded. Then he followed the path of her eyes out across her yard and into the neighbor's. There was an old swing set there, rusted beyond salvation.

"Can I get you something? I could get you some water, or a soda. You want a soda?"

She shook her head again.

"All right. Okay, no soda," he uttered helplessly. "Maybe we'll just sit here for a while. We could do that."

Madison turned and looked at him, but this time it was McKay who didn't look back, his eyes pinned on the aged chains of the play thing. She was trying so hard not to cry again, but looking at him made her so sad.

"Is it true what Daddy says?"

"What does Daddy say?"

"He says there's a place for nice people and a place for bad people, and the nice people get to go live in a house with Mr. God and Mrs. God."

He bit his lip when he felt it quiver.

"Yeah," he said after a moment. "That's exactly right. And your mother, you know… she was so nice."

Madison thought about that for a little while, then decided he was telling the truth. But the more she watched her uncle tremble, the more sure she was that he was leaving something out.

"What about the bad people?"

McKay closed his eyes when something dropped out of one. It felt cold on his face.

It was too embarrassing to tell a child that he didn't know something, so he just reached for her arm and tugged it toward him. Soon her little body was pressed up against his side.

He held her to him while she wept.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

"_Look_. I don't have time to micromanage and supervise every solitary test run, okay? Zelenka is more than capable of handling this."

"I don't want Zelenka on this. I want _you_ on this."

"That's too bad, because I'm busy."

Sheppard sighed as he fought to keep stride with him.

"What could you possibly be working on that's more important than testing a new Ancient energy weapon that you spent three weeks without sleep getting online?"

"I'm done my part on this, Colonel," McKay snapped, making his friend flinch. "Now I have other things to work on."

"Is that how it is? You kill yourself on one thing, and then the second you're done, you kill yourself for something else? That seems really smart, Rodney. Sleep – who needs it, right? Rest – what's that? Doesn't matter, does it?"

McKay ignored him, his jaw clenched shut as he came to a stop in front of the transporter. He waved his hand in front of the control panel, then moved to step inside when the doors opened.

Sheppard grabbed his arm in frustration and spun the surprised scientist back to face him.

"Damn it, Rodney, she's _dead_, okay? She's dead!" he shouted, feeling suddenly the part of a mutineer when McKay's stoic façade cracked. He took a breath then, and when he spoke again, his voice was softer, kinder. "She's gone, all right? It doesn't matter how long you do this to yourself. When you finally stop, she still won't be there."

The scientist averted his eyes, afraid about what Sheppard might find in them. There weren't any words he had in his defense, and if they existed, he'd still not have spoken them.

His friend looked on him with a gentleness most men don't share.

"What are you punishing yourself for?" he asked. "What's the point?"

McKay didn't answer immediately. For a time, he didn't move at all. Things came and went on and from his face, some lingering and some like a flash, in a manner not altogether different than that ether between sleep and awake.

The soldier watched him curiously, waiting patiently for some sign of recognition.

"I'll see you tomorrow," McKay said quietly, finally looking up. "When do we leave?"

Sheppard smiled.

"0900."

McKay nodded. Then he turned and entered the transporter.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Teyla came by to see him while he was working that night. She brought him dinner and coffee, and pretended to be interested in what he was doing. He tried to explain it as best he could, but when that cause proved lost, he settled for comfortable conversation.

She told him about how the Athosians had rebuilt their ravaged village and settled back into old routines, and about the precious things her child had done when last she'd shared his company there. There was such joy in her voice. It reminded him what hope was.

At one point, he seemed a little preoccupied. She asked him what was troubling him.

"I try not to, but I've been thinking a lot lately about… my, uh… life."

Teyla smiled softly, inclining her head in that way of hers.

"Can you be more specific?"

McKay ran a hand through his hair, thinking there was less there than he recalled.

"Just… everything. Everything I've ever done, and what the point was."

"You are concerned that its worth is lacking?"

"I don't know. Maybe. I probably spent more than half of my life trying to be remembered. I wanted to do something people wouldn't forget when I, eventually, you know… passed on?"

"And you feel you have not done this."

He shrugged, leaning back in his chair and staring up at the ceiling.

"I think maybe I was missing the point. I keep – I'm always looking behind me. Do you know what I mean?"

Teyla smiled, feeling warmth in his unguarded gaze as her eyes caught his.

"Yes, Rodney. I do," she said.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

He was careful not to wake her when he slipped out of bed. For a moment, as he looked down at her lying there, he was tempted to rouse her and tell her how beautiful she looked, but in the end he thought better of it, placing a gentle kiss on her head before he left her quarters and returned to his own.

A quick shower made him feel a little more awake. A long shave made him feel a little more presentable. As he got dressed, he felt a little jittery, and he couldn't account for it. He hadn't had any coffee yet and there was nothing to fear from today's test run on the Apollo. Maybe it was just exhaustion, not yet left his bones.

Whatever it was, he didn't like it, and he suddenly wished he'd woken her. He hadn't, though, and it wasn't long before he heard Sheppard on the radio.

"McKay, Ellis has given us the all-clear. I'll meet you on board."

He glanced around the room, and then he left.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

It was a short trip, all things considered. The plan was to test the new weapon on an abandoned Ancient outpost they'd already stripped bare of information and technology. Considering the planet was uninhabited, it was an ideal site.

Ellis leaned back in his chair, looking past Sheppard, Ronon, and Teyla out the view window, getting a clear look at the mostly oceanic planet below. Its only land mass, roughly the size of New Hampshire, was dwarfed by the endless blue palette surrounding it.

"Everything looks good, sir," the young lieutenant reported to his left.

With a curt nod, Ellis tapped the radio transmitter on the arm of his chair.

"Dr. McKay, we're ready up here. What's your status?"

"Give me a minute," the scientist's voice answered back. "I found something strange when I brought the system online."

Ellis glanced at Sheppard, who turned back to face him with a frown.

"What kind of anomaly, Doctor?"

McKay didn't reply for a moment, obviously distracted.

"I'm not sure yet. I'm getting an unusual energy signature emanating from the weapon."

"Is it going to interfere with the test?"

"I doubt it, but I'd like to run a quick diagnostic."

"Don't let me keep you then," he replied, abruptly closing the channel.

Teyla looked at Ellis, trying to gauge the man's mood, and then at Sheppard.

"Is there cause for alarm?"

Sheppard smiled disarmingly.

"Nah, you know Rodney. This is just a little grandstanding."

"Something I don't have much patience for," Ellis interrupted pointedly. "We're on a schedule."

Sheppard fought the urge to roll his eyes.

"Just give him a minute."

OooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

McKay poured over the data scrolling on the laptop in front of him, stifling a yawn with his fisted hand. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a full night's sleep, or what it felt like, but he had nostalgia for it, the same as a lot of other things.

He glanced over his shoulder at Cremlin, Apollo's scientist of record.

"Are you getting anything?"

"There's some kind of feedback in the sensor readings."

McKay stood up, intrigued, and crossed the room to stand behind him, looking over his shoulder. He frowned when he looked at the screen.

"What is that?"

Cremlin pressed a few keys, bringing up a full view of the ship's power grid.

"It looks like the feedback is directly proportional to the energy signature of the weapon."

"What? That doesn't make any sense. That would mean we're picking up readings from the weapon as if it were a separate entity from the rest of the ship's systems. But it's been fully integrated."

Cremlin scrolled through another data set, then froze.

"What the hell? Here, look at this."

"What?" McKay asked, squinting to get a better view of the screen. "Wait, are those the _long_-_range_ sensor readings?"

"That's where the feedback's coming from. The energy signature is bouncing off of something far enough away that our long-range sensors are picking it up."

McKay shook his head.

"For that to happen, we'd have to be receiving an echo from _someone else's_ signal."

"And that would mean…"

McKay stiffened, the color draining from his face in a matter of milliseconds.

"Oh, shit," he whispered.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

"Bridge, this is McKay! We have a _major_ problem here!"

Ellis glanced up at the scientist's team apprehensively as they took a few steps toward him.

"What is it, Doctor?"

"The weapon is giving off a massive energy signature that we think can be detected by long-range sensors," McKay's voice rang out over the speaker. "It's essentially a massive homing beacon, and it's giving away our position to whoever wants it."

Sheppard crossed his arms with guarded alarm.

"Then just shut it off, Rodney."

"Oh, _thanks_! I hadn't thought of that!" the scientist snapped back. "Okay – allakazam – problem solved! Or not. _Look_, I already took the weapon offline, but the damage is done! Somebody out there already knows our location. I recommend we open a hyperspace window and get out of here _immediately_."

Ellis looked to Teyla's eyes to be skeptical. While she had no particular affection for Colonel Caldwell, he at least knew enough to trust McKay's judgments implicitly.

"_Who_ knows our location, Doctor? What evidence do you have to support that?"

The young lieutenant to Ellis' left spoke up before McKay could, calling out sharply as a pair of vessels appeared in the near distance.

"Sir! Two hive ships just dropped out of hyperspace."

Ellis shot up out of his chair, brushing past Sheppard as he stalked forward to look out the view screen. He nearly leapt back as the black of space burst open again, spitting out several more.

"Another six, sir!"

"That enough 'evidence' for you?" Ronon grumbled behind him.

Ellis spun back to face the lieutenant.

"Open up a hyperspace window!" he ordered. "Get us out of here!"

Incoming fire rocked the Apollo, sending Ellis staggering back toward his chair, which he fell into. Sheppard, Teyla, and Ronon just grabbed on to whatever they could.

The young lieutenant shook his head in frustration.

"Hyperdrive non-responsive, Colonel! They fired a focused volley right at our engines."

"Return fire then! Beams and forward rail guns!" Ellis barked, turning his eyes to Sheppard with an unspoken directive.

The soldier understood, tapping his radio.

"McKay, we need that weapon back online!"

The scientist's voice was mildly garbled by interference and it sounded strained beyond reason.

"I'm working on it!"

Sheppard turned back to the view window when he saw a linear flash of light burst through one of the hive ships, igniting a chain reaction that ripped it apart from within in a brilliant explosion. But not more than moments after that ship was reduced to debris, he could see the flash of new hyperspace windows.

"Two more, sir!" the lieutenant shouted, ducking his head as sparks burst out of a panel not far from him. "They're maneuvering around to flank us! Shields down to thirty percent!"

"Where the hell are all these coming from?" Ellis demanded. "I thought they were at war with each other!"

Sheppard grunted as he was thrown to the floor by an incoming hit, wincing as his head struck the near console. Teyla and Ronon were picking him up before he knew what had happened.

"Apparently they talked things out!" the frazzled soldier quipped, pressing a hand to his rattled head. "We can't take much more of this! We have to evacuate!"

The lieutenant's station exploded in front of him, ejecting him from his seat, and by the time he hit the floor, there were jagged metal pieces peppering his still body.

Sheppard held an arm in front of his face, trying to avoid the flames as he dragged the young marine away from the fire, only to discover he was already dead. Ronon stepped around the corpse with a fire extinguisher to spray down the orange blaze.

"We can't let this ship fall into their hands, Colonel!" Ellis shouted over the persisting cacophony. "I won't just leave it for them!"

Sheppard rose to his feet, trying to block out the lieutenant's bloodied hide.

"So we set the self-destruct and transport to the planet!"

Ellis took a hard look around the Bridge, seeing wrecked consoles and strewn bodies all around. It had been reduced to a junk yard.

"Communications are down, and we can't do it from here," he said, almost too quiet to be heard.

Sheppard nodded harshly.

"Then we have to get to McKay."

OooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Cremlin never saw it coming. The beam crushed him in an instant.

McKay tried to pull him out from underneath it, hearing his dying gasps and gargling, but it wouldn't budge, and Cremlin finally died.

He'd managed to get the weapon online, but it didn't appear to matter. He hadn't been able to raise anyone over the radio and his ship schematic was blinking red furiously in several places, indicating breeches of the hull. Huge chunks of several decks were venting atmosphere, and the Bridge appeared to have been destroyed. For all he knew, everyone up there was dead, including Ellis and his teammates.

It suddenly struck him that if Ellis and Sheppard were dead, the command structure would have broken down entirely. No one would have the faintest clue how to proceed. He decided to take matters into his own hands, trying to pull up the transporter on his laptop. When the computer reported that the system had been disabled, he nearly tossed it across the room in frustration.

The only other escape route was by way of the 302s. A quick glance at the ship's schematic confirmed that the bay was still intact.

He headed for the doorway in a half-jog, but came up short when someone emerged around the corner from the outside corridor, and suddenly he was facing down the barrel of a gun. He recoiled momentarily before he realized who was wielding it.

"Sheppard!"

The soldier smiled tightly.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

McKay nodded, glancing past him to find Ellis, Teyla, and Ronon coming up.

"I'm fine. When I saw they'd taken out the Bridge, I thought – "

"We haven't got time, Rodney," Sheppard interrupted curtly. "We have to activate the self-destruct and use the transporter. The ship's already been boarded."

McKay froze.

"_Boarded_?"

"One of the hives docked at an airlock. We had to kill three Wraith just to get down here."

The scientist recovered quickly.

"The transporter's out, and there's nothing I can do to fix it. We're going to have to get to the 302 bay."

Sheppard glanced back at Ellis grimly.

"That's going to be a problem, Doctor," Ellis offered with frustration. "We saw them pouring onto that deck on our way down."

Ronon stepped up into plain sight.

"Then I guess we'll just have to kill a few more."

"No thanks, Dirty Harry," McKay grumbled, looking to the others for support.

Sheppard just shook his head, though.

"There's no other way to get there, Rodney. The armory is on this deck. We'll stop on the way."

Ellis stepped past both of them into the lab, walking toward McKay's laptop near the wall that was still intact. He looked back at the scientist impatiently.

"We have to set the self-destruct, Doctor."

McKay sighed.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

He snapped the clasps on his vest together, thinking it felt heavier than ever. As he took the shotgun being held out for him by Sheppard, he wished he'd never gotten out of bed. This wasn't the mission he'd agreed to last night.

"All right, try to conserve your ammunition whenever possible," Ellis instructed, slamming a clip into his P-90. "We don't know how many Wraith we're going to have to get through."

Sheppard's team all nodded their acknowledgement, Teyla smiling reassuringly at McKay, who looked so much like a terrified child that she felt some motherly urge. It wasn't quite the same, though, just a little bit similar. McKay seemed to know that as he followed Ellis to the door.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Ronon tossed the dead body aside, only then looking up to find Sheppard unconscious, Teyla using the wall to pull herself to her feet, and McKay crouching over Ellis' withered body in horror.

"Oh, God," the scientist whispered.

He was so decrepit and frail that it was almost impossible to believe he'd only just died. McKay might have kneeled there and stared at him indefinitely, but Ronon's insistent voice drew his eyes to the Satedan.

"Let's go, McKay," he demanded, hauling Sheppard's limp body off of the floor with Teyla's help.

It never ceased to amaze McKay the way his teammates could brush off calamity. He supposed that accounted for the disparity in courage between them.

The scientist stood behind them, waiting for Teyla to take the lead as she usually would. She appeared awkwardly reticent, though, and as he thought he might know why, McKay took the lead down the corridor himself, Teyla and Ronon in tow.

They encountered several more Wraith along the way, but having not fed recently, they were easily disposed of by McKay and Teyla.

When they rounded the last bend, McKay could see the double doors leading into the bay. But posted on each side was a single Wraith, and both fired blasts from their bulky stunners the moment the scientist came into view.

McKay ducked quickly to avoid a shot, then fired two shells into the chest of one of them, while Teyla unloaded at least eight rounds into the other.

Hurrying to the doors, not convinced there weren't other Wraith lingering in the vicinity, he pulled his key card from his vest, then swiped it through the scanner. Nothing happened, though. It should have lit green to allow him entrance, or at least red to deny it to him. But neither color appeared.

"Come on, McKay," Ronon grunted, struggling a little with Sheppard's weight now.

The scientist swiped his card a second time, and then a third, but still there was nothing.

"It's not working."

"What is the problem?" Teyla asked. "Can you not bypass it?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Hold on."

McKay slipped his pack off of his shoulders, unzipping it and pulling out his laptop, connecting a wire from a side outlet into an input on the bay door scanner.

"Hurry, Rodney," she implored him. "Our time is short."

The scientist's hands moved furiously over the keys on the keyboard, but after a few short seconds, he froze, looking up at Teyla with confounded eyes.

"Not as short as you'd think."

"What is the matter?"

"I just interfaced with the ship's computer. According to this, the self-destruct has been deactivated."

Ronon eyed him grimly.

"They turned it off?"

McKay nodded.

"Can you not simply reactivate it from here?" Teyla asked.

"No, I have to physically plug-in at a ship's terminal. Otherwise, any joker with a Wi-Fi card could set it."

Ronon looked to Teyla, then to McKay. He could hear something in the corridor in the distance, probably more Wraith.

"What do we do then?" he asked.

McKay ignored the question and returned to his laptop, something changing in his expression for the worse. After several furious, effortless seconds, the scanner lit green and the bay doors parted before him.

He shoved his laptop back into his pack and stood.

"We can't let them take the ship," he said quietly, his eyes turning down. "There's too much here. The hyperdrive, the Asgard systems, the location of Earth…"

Teyla turned her head as the sound in the corridor got closer, then looked back at McKay fretfully.

"What do you propose we do, Rodney?"

When McKay finally looked up at her, she immediately knew the answer. His blue eyes were terrified and haunted, but full so clearly of determination. She shook her head before he even spoke.

"There's only one option," he said, feeling a lump in his throat. "I have to get to the terminal on this level and reset the self-destruct."

Ronon understood the implication.

"Alone?"

McKay nodded with trepidation, trying to look brave.

"Yes. I'm the only one with the code, and I'm the only one who knows how to do it. There's no reason for you to come with me."

The footsteps weren't far now, and McKay spoke again quickly before either of his teammates could respond.

"Go," he said. "You have to go."

Teyla shook her head defiantly, leaning close to him.

"What about you?"

Looking into her eyes, those kind, warm, caring eyes, he wondered what he'd ever done to deserve her friendship. It was strangely satisfying seeing how terrified she was, because it was terror felt on his behalf. She'll be such a wonderful mother, he thought.

"I'll be right behind you," he lied. "But you have to go now."

Teyla looked helplessly at Ronon, but the Satedan offered no reassurance. He looked back at McKay with a kind of understanding the Athosian couldn't conjure.

"Good luck," he said.

That was all.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

It was a cool, clear day that reminded him of San Diego. The shadows were starting to fall in anticipation of evening, but the sun still reflected on the ocean for now. It made it look a little paler, and where it rippled, it looked like the event horizon of the Stargate.

He leaned his arms on the railing, hunching forward. It was amazing the way clouds could own the sky in the morning, but be expelled in full by afternoon. You can try to predict something like that, but even with computers, you'll usually be wrong. It was just one of those things.

When the sun was just barely holding on above the water, he heard a familiar voice.

"Hello," she said quietly.

He smiled politely as she walked up beside him, following his eyes out over the ocean. She smelled like lilies or carnations or something close. In consort with the mild smell of salt carried in by the breeze, it was comforting. He wondered how she managed that.

"So…" he began awkwardly. "How are you… holding up?"

Teyla took a deep breath, searching for the answer herself.

"I do not believe I have fully accepted the circumstance."

"Understandable."

"How are you?"

Sheppard manufactured a smile, but it was a pathetic effort and they both knew it. He waited to speak until it had washed away, running a hand through his unkempt mane.

"Same as everyone else, I guess. It still feels like he's _somewhere_… just… some other place, and we have to find him. Like all we have to do is look."

Teyla nodded with understanding, wanting to touch him just then, but worried he might recoil. So she just smiled reassuringly at him, even though he wouldn't look at her.

"Why the hell did he go and do that?" Sheppard asked, his forehead creased in frustration. "They could have had the damn ship. We'd have found another way to stop them."

"Rodney did not believe so. And neither do I."

"That's bullshit. What right did he have to make that decision? He should have known he wasn't expendable. Christ, he told _us_ often enough."

Teyla looked back at the blackening sky. The sun was all but gone now.

"I believe that, in the end, a choice is none but one's own," she said, "and that with each one we make, we define ourselves anew."

"You really believe that?"

She nodded.

Sheppard finally tore his eyes away from the gleaming ocean, glancing back at Teyla, whose optics glistened the same. It was so hard to look at her when he knew he looked like she did.

"I just… I wish…"

She stepped toward him, carefully wrapping her arms around his waist. As soon as he felt her body against his, he gave up his voice. A moment later, he put his arms around her in kind, thinking about the infiniteness of the ocean.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

"You knew my Uncle Mer?"

"Yes. He was a very, very good friend of mine."

Madison looked through the holes in the banister at all the people milling around downstairs. She hated it even more this time than last. There were just too many strangers, and they all acted like they loved him just as much, but they didn't.

"Was he your _best_ friend?"

Sheppard smiled, rolling his head to look at her.

"The best," he said. "And no one will ever be better."

That seemed to satisfy her. She slipped her tiny legs through the banister openings, letting them dangle down.

She looked back at him after a time.

"Uncle Mer said Mommy is up in a special place because she was so nice."

Sheppard smiled indulgently.

"I think he was right."

"Is he with her too now?" she asked, her tiny voice trembling with hope.

He nodded emphatically.

"Yes. He's there," he said. "And he's looking down on us right now, watching over everyone. He loves you so much. _So_ much. And he'll always be listening."

Madison looked back down at the strangers downstairs, wiping her own face when she saw one of them crying. She thought maybe they did love him, just not as much as her.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

She watched her son crawl across the floor aimlessly, grabbing and pushing and pulling things with general futility. He didn't seem discouraged, though. He'd just move on to something else each time.

As he looked upon the world with wonder, his young mind teeming with infinite possibilities, she felt overwhelmed by her adoration and affection for him. But it was not without sadness that she felt these things, for she knew the cost that had been paid so that they could be. And so long as she lived, she'd never separate the joy from the pain.

The boy looked so beautiful, though.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Keller skimmed through the reports, her eyes strained in the dim light of the empty commissary. She could have done this another time, she supposed. No one had even asked for them yet.

But her bed had been so cold.

Sometime around three o'clock in the morning, she glanced toward the door when she heard footsteps. He stood there for a moment, offering the mildest of smiles before crossing past the vacant tables toward her. He'd obviously known she'd be here.

"Hi," she said quietly, as he circled around to the other side of her table.

"What are you still doing up?"

"Just finishing some paperwork. I've gotten behind."

Ronon nodded as he sat down, but it was obvious her flimsy excuse was transparent to him, and for some reason that embarrassed her. She averted her eyes, taking up her pen again and pretending to read the page in front of her.

"Sheppard told me you're going back to Earth."

"It's only temporary," she said quickly. "I just need a little time, you know?"

He nodded again, watching as her hand – hovering above the page as if paralyzed to put pen to paper – shook just enough for him to notice. It was little things like that that told the truth.

"He wouldn't want you to run away."

Keller's eyes snapped up from the page.

"Just… don't, okay? Don't try to tell me what he'd want."

Ronon regarded her calmly.

"He'd want you to stay. So does everyone else."

"It's only temporary," she repeated flatly.

"We both know that if you leave, you're not coming back."

Keller looked down at the report again, though this time there was no illusion that she was reading it.

"It'll get better," he said, his voice softer. "You can't see how, but it will. It always does."

It was heartbreaking how much sorrow there was in his declaration of hope. She wondered if he even knew it, or if he'd conditioned himself not to notice.

When she looked back up at him, secure in the knowledge that he knew loss as well or better than she did, she still couldn't suppress the rush of anger that rose up through her stomach and found words in her desert-dry mouth.

"How can you come here and tell me that? When you're the one who let him do it."

Ronon looked into her empty eyes, falling into nothing.

"I hate that it ended that way," he said, "but I knew that it had to."

* * *

**FIN**

* * *


End file.
